Blue Skies
by H. S. Hines
Summary: Following the ghost of a positronic signal, Voyager seeks to undo the damage the Remens of the Scimitar inflicted upon the Federation. TNG-Voyager crossover. Mild FF content. Complete. Please R&R.


_Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, Paramount does. But the story's mine. Since Paramount has given up on the Star Trek franchise (remember, Enterprise, is NOT Star Trek-they wanted a better audience than trekkers, they wanted 'cool' people watching). I'm not making any money off this, and since you can get blood from a stone, you can't sue me for writing this. **This has two women in love with each other**, so if you're offended, go away, or if it's illegal in your area, who's gonna know anyway?_

Note: This story is a short. I'm sorry there is a bit of skipping around and summarizing big events, but it was unnecessary to flesh them out, in my opinion. I'm aware the ending is a little rushed, I'm sorry.Also,** I spoil Nemesis, Voyager, and everything else I can think of.** This is a **crossover fic** (with TNG). Takes place a while after the events in Star Trek: Nemesis.

Code: T/7

Rating: PG

Constructive feedback welcome as well as gushing and anything that isn't a flame.

Dedication: To Voy, who consistently bugs me to write and who asked for me to write something like this. Hope it's what you wanted, buddy.

Blue Skies 

By H. S. Hines

"Hey, BLT" Seven of Nine said as she passed B'Elanna in the corridor. B'Elanna stopped and turned around.

"What did you say" She snapped and Crewman Vance flinched.

"I said that there's a problem in engineering that you have to see, Lieutenant." B'Elanna searched the corridor, but there was no sign of Seven, or that she had ever been there.

"Did Seven of Nine just pass by" B'Elanna asked. Vance shook his head and hurried back towards Engineering, all of thirty steps back the way B'Elanna had just come. She cursed her exhaustion and wondered if it was worth is to turn around and see what the crewman had called her back for. She had just finished up a nine hour shift, followed by sixteen hours of overtime trying to integrate a new alien technology into the engines that would give them a 120 boost to their speed, cutting down their travel time by more than half.

Deciding that despite the fact that she was so exhausted she was hallucinating, she was too close to Engineering to ignore the summons. She took those thirty steps (which turned into forty going back) and stepped through the door into Engineering.

Seven of Nine worked diligently and efficiently at her console, concluding her work on the modifications she had to make to Voyagers sensors to adjust them to take in data for speeds exceeding warp 10. Though such speeds had been previously recorded in other space-faring races, Voyager's computer's Starfleet mentality refused to acknowledge that it was feasible for it to exceed such speeds that it had been programmed were not possible.

A hand appeared at Seven's waist, a black-clad arm snaking across, embracing her. A soft breath stirred her hair against her ear.

"Care for a dance?" came Captain Janeway's voice. Seven turned quickly.

"Admiral?" But there was no one there. Seven immediately ran a self-diagnostic, but found nothing wrong with her sensory input. "Computer, has anyone been in this room other than myself in the past five minutes?"

"Negative." Seven pressed a panel on her workstation; saving the data she had collected and prepared to relieve herself, deciding she needed some sleep. "However, Miss Hansen, this ship will self-destruct in three minutes. I cannot say that I will miss you." Seven blinked hard and took a deep breath.

"Computer, restate."

"There has been no other life signs in Astrometrics than Annika Hansen in the past five minutes."

"Did you say anything after that?"

"Negative."

"Has the self-destruct mechanism been activated?"

"Negative."

"Are we at red alert?"

"Negative." Seven decided that perhaps a trip to sickbay might be more productive.

"Captain, we've been through this area of space twelve times. Our scanners keep reading the same signal, but there is nothing out here. Not in subspace, not in normal space, not in front of our damn faces!" the Lieutenant struck his console in frustration. He had spent the last thirteen hours looking for a ghost of a positronic signal.

"Lieutenant, hold your temper. The signal can't be coming from nowhere. If there is another unit out here, we will find it."

"Yes, Sir." He sighed and resumed his scans of the sector, searching (in vain) for the source of the mysterious broadcast.

"You're just not doing it right."

"Sir?" The Lieutenant queried.

"What is it, Harry?"

"Do you have a better idea?"

"What are you talking about, Harry?"

"You said I wasn't doing it right," Harry replied in frustration.

"No, I didn't." Chakotay stood up and faced Harry. "I would never say anything like that."

"I heard you," Harry argued.

"Lieutenant, perhaps you need a break. Your shift was over several hours ago."

"I could have sworn…" Harry trailed off as he realized that it wasn't Chakotay's voice he had heard, but rather, Tom's. He gave a start at the thought and ignored the chill that swept over him. "I think you're right, Captain. I need a break." Harry glanced at the pilot's seat, where Voyager's current pilot continued the repetitive course. Lt. Nog glanced briefly at him, and then returned his gaze to his console. Ensign Parker stepped up to him and Harry gave over his workstation in favor of his path to his quarters, confused and upset at the imagined criticism by his dead best friend.

Seven walked into Sickbay to find the Doctor hovering over Voyager's unconscious chief engineer. She walked over to a biobed and was at once attended to by Dr. Atkins, Voyager's junior doctor and the first human doctor to be subordinate to a hologram.

"Let me guess," Atkins began, "You've been experiencing hallucinations?"

"Yes," Seven answered, surprised. "How did you know?"

"You would be the sixteenth crewmember with that complaint," she replied. "We've been getting three every hour for the past six hours."

"Have you determined a cause?" Seven asked the tricorder hovering in front of her, trying to read it upside down.

"No, and it would appear that you're no different. Completely normal," she sighed, snapping the tricorder closed.

"Ha, there's nothing 'normal' about her," came the voice of B'Elanna Torres. Seven glanced at the biobed, but B'Elanna was still unconscious.

"Why is Lieutenant Torres unconscious?"

"We can't seem to figure that out, either," Dr. Atkins answered, the frustration plain in her voice.

"Doctor Atkins, I believe our patient is coming around." Atkins and Seven walked over to B'Elanna's side as she sat up, rubbing her head.

"Are you alright, B'Elanna?" Seven asked.

"Yeah," B'Elanna responded. "Did you call me BLT?"

"Excuse me?" Seven replied. "I do not believe I have ever referred to you by that designation."

"I guess I imagined it."

"Seventeen." Dr. Atkins muttered, walking away with her bio-readings.

"It is feasible that there are other crew members not reporting their symptoms. It is highly unlikely that you are receiving an exact number each hour," Seven commented.

"Aw, no quota?" Atkins groused. "Damn."

"Sarcasm is unnecessary." Atkins looked up from her tricorder.

"What? I didn't say anything."

"We must get to the bottom of these hallucinations," the Doctor said, casting Seven a sympathetic glance.

"Please, do."

"Captain! Ensign Parker exclaimed. "I've discovered a cluster of debris imbedded in astral phenomenon 1348-B."

"Where is that, Ensign? This sector is barren."

"It's not in this sector. It's about a parsec away from our search pattern."

"There hasn't been enough time since the destruction of the Scimitar for debris to have traveled that far." Ensign Parker went quiet. "Commander?" Commander Gardner looked at her captain. She had been assigned to the ship at the beginning of this particular mission and had yet to become familiar with the ship's routine. She certainly didn't know her captain well enough to know what he would prefer she said, so she gave her honest opinion.

"I think this whole mission is a waste of a valuable Fleet ship. If this unit is anything like the B-4 unit, it will be nothing more than a child for its entire existence. I know that artificial intelligence research will benefit, but I had the pleasure of meeting Commander Data once." She paused a moment. "No one will ever be able to build another. He was one of a kind. At best, we might be able to build another B-4. At worst, we'll get another Lore. I've read Starfleet's reports. Even Commander Data was unable to build another android like himself." She took a breath. "With all the important research occurring in the Gamma Quadrant, our revolutionary Astrometrics lab and advance sensor technology, as well as this new alien engine efficiency technology—a very gifted crew is being wasted chasing sensor ghosts. Honestly, I want to know who we pissed off to get this assignment."

"To find the B-4 Unit," Chakotay said quietly, "The Enterprise, flagship of the Fleet, wasn't 'wasted' on their assignment."

"Because with Commander Data on board, they were the only ship qualified."

"Your personal feelings about this assignment aside—"

"I think we should go chasing the debris. At least it's something of a lead and we wouldn't just be floating out here, misusing energy and time."

"Lieutenant Nog, set a course for our… debris."

"Yes, Sir," responded the young Ferengi, just as glad as everyone else to be doing something different.

Space is silent. What we hear on viewscreens as we see another ship firing is the vibrations from the weapon traveling through the deck plates. We hear our engines all the time. We hear our own weapons fire, but not the explosion at they hit. That's our imagination. But I could swear, I almost heard singing…

B'Elanna looked across the table at Seven. They were sitting in the Mess Hall, sipping tea and coffee respectively. Sometimes it felt too quiet without Mr. Neelix. Replicators seemed to produce bland food, compared to his. It wasn't true, of course, it was just the lack of him. She could get on the viewer and talk to him, if she really wanted to. But the simple fact was, as annoying as he could be at times, she missed his presence. Seven, of course, didn't say so, but she was thinking the exact same thing.

"What is BLT?" Seven asked. "Aside from a sandwich, of course."

"It was an old, annoying nickname. Stood for B'Elanna Torres." They continued their silence for a while.

"We do not converse often," Seven stated. B'Elanna nodded. "You do not converse often," Seven restated. B'Elanna nodded again. There was a stretch of silence.

"When Lieutenant Carey and Neelix came back, without Tom, all I could think of was 'Why?' Why Carey, whose kids had at least met him? Why Neelix, who had no family?" B'Elanna took a sip of her coffee. "But now, I miss Neelix. And seeing Joe reunite with his kids…" B'Elanna stopped, a catch in her throat. "I just wonder what it would have been like if Tom had survived. If they had picked either of the other men, instead. Now I have to raise Miral by myself, and… I never see her. She's going to think that the nursery teacher is her mother." B'Elanna didn't know why she was telling Seven all of this. Seven watched her, quietly. Then, unexpectedly, Seven reached across the table, like reaching across a wall that B'Elanna had built against all comers, and took the distraught woman's hand.

"You do not have to be alone." B'Elanna shook her head at the thought.

"I can't get married again. It doesn't work like—"

"I do not mean, in a romantic way, Lieutenant," Seven interrupted. "You no longer have the stigma of being Maquis. There is no longer the Maquis-Starfleet rivalry hanging over your head. You could make friends."

"I could say the same to you, _Annika_. No one sees you as Borg anymore. Doctor Crusher finished her surgeries months ago. You're as human as you ever were."

"I still contain an eidetic memory core implant and years of cultural deprivation. I still _sound_ borg." B'Elanna shook her head.

"Not as much as you used to. I think that time you spent with your family helped."

"Indeed. Although, after I returned, it seemed to damage my relationship with Chakotay."

"Ruined it utterly," B'Elanna agreed with a smile. Seven raised her eyebrow.

"You sound happy, Lieutenant."

"You hated that relationship," B'Elanna answered. "Anyone could tell that you two had no chemistry."

"I beg to differ," Seven said, slightly affronted.

"Don't. You might have been attracted to him because he's calm, usually unemotional, handsome and yeah, you shared some interests, but you weren't compatible."

"What is the saying? 'Opposites attract'?" B'Elanna laughed. Seven smiled to hear the sound. A few crewmembers even turned to look—it was a sound missing from the ship since her second launch.

"In that case, maybe we should date!" B'Elanna managed to get out. Then the laughter faded, but not from her eyes.

"We are both women," Seven stated.

"Yeah. You may be hot, Seven, but I don't know if I could see us in a relationship."

"Hot?" Seven's eyebrow quirked. "I thought I was the 'Ice Queen'?"

"Not for a long time," B'Elanna said. "But I'm glad that we're friends now."

"We are?"

"Yes, I'm informing you of the fact that I now consider you my friend. Jeez, that's a lot of words."

"I thought that Klingons typically used Kahless as their soubriquet."

"My mother's dead, in Stovokor, I've ensured my place there as well, and Kahless is a clone of a long-dead warrior being controlled like a puppet. I don't see any purpose in invoking his name. It seems to have lost meaning." Seven nodded and smiled. "What?" B'Elanna asked, suspicious she might be the victim of Seven's odd sense of humor.

"You have not ceased smiling for the past three-point-six minutes. It is a record for you on this ship." Seven was rewarded by a broader smile and wasn't surprised to feel her heart lift with it.

"Maybe that's because you're an idiot that everyone's always laughing at." Seven choked.

"Please restate," she said, hoping that she had just hallucinated.

"I said I haven't felt this comfortable in a while. Seven, are you okay?" Seven closed her eyes until she regained her composure.

"Yes, I just had a hallucination."

"What did you think I said?" B'Elanna grasped Seven's hand, realizing that it hadn't moved since she had offered it.

"It is unbearable to repeat." Seven refused to meet B'Elanna's eyes.

"It's got to be the accelerator."

"Excuse me?"

"What else has changed about the ship? There have always been strange things that happen whenever humans exceed maximum warp. You know, the ships they built, back in Kirk's time, could force themselves to go as fast as warp fourteen with alien assistance? It was an overload speed, yes, but it happened. Their sickbays would get strange reports all day, but back then, they would just dismiss it as unknown. When we built the Warp Ten ship, we caused the captain and … Tom … to evolve or devolve into lizards. Hell, the old ships had a flaw with their warp engines that would open a wormhole if they went to warp too close to a planet's gravity and they could use a solar body to travel in time. We've fixed all that, of course, but what if the 'unknown' diagnoses weren't caused by the new engines, but rather, the excess speed?"

"It makes sense." Seven agreed. B'Elanna laughed a little.

"Remember when it would take us days to figure out something so obvious?" Seven nodded. "Must have been that Delta Quadrant water," B'Elanna joked. Seven looked confused.

"Our water was produced by the same repli—"

"Nevermind, Seven."

"If we take the augmentation off, the engines won't work. We need a whole starbase to extract this stuff." B'Elanna's voice stated over the intercom.

"So we're just going to have to put up with the hallucinations until this mission is over." Chakotay agreed.

"Yeah, but don't tell the Doc or you'll never hear the end of it."

"He won't hear it from me. Good job, B'Elanna. Keep up the good work."

"Captain!" Harry exclaimed. "I think this is it!" Chakotay stood and walked over to the ops console, reading over the excited Lieutenant's shoulder. Sure enough, the signal was embedded in a chunk of starship hull plating. "Sir," Harry choked. "Look."

"Waste of time, huh?" Chakotay whispered.

"Sir, what is it?" Commander Gardner asked, out of her seat and walking over to the pair.

"It's a Reman vessel signature." Harry answered. "It's not another B-4, Commander." Gardner looked at the viewscreen. It looked like a gunmetal grey asteroid with a fin jutting from it. "It's the Scimitar."

"Are you certain?" Gardner asked. Chakotay straightened. Harry looked at them and nodded. He suddenly felt so tired and as though he couldn't speak. Then, he was opening his eyes to see Dr. Atkins.

"What happened?" Harry asked, closing his eyes against a sudden wave of vertigo.

"You fainted, Lieutenant," Atkins replied cheerfully. "Apparently, finding Commander Data was too much for you." Harry glared at her. "I'm just kidding. We're going to drop out of extended warp shortly, then all your symptoms should pass. Commander Gardner filled us in." Harry nodded, wondering if Chakotay had told her she could. Gardner seemed to take her own initiative in most things, it seemed.

"So it is Data?" Atkins smiled briefly.

"What's left of him. I'm afraid it isn't much, and isn't enough." Harry closed his eyes. "His body was all but destroyed."

"His body?" Harry turned to look at Seven of Nine—no, Annika Hansen. She hadn't been Seven in a long time. It was just so hard to think of her as anyone else. "Commander Data does not need his body. His memory core is in his head."

"Not much left of that, either," Atkins said. "Well, they said that his brain was there, but…"

"Yes, doctor?"

"He didn't have much face. Just a single eye and part of his nose."

"If his brain is intact, then it can be installed into the B-4 unit, there should be no problem." Seven said, simply.

"What?" The Doctor appeared. "How can you so coldly announce that B-4 should die so that Commander Data can be given a body?"

"It is logical," Seven said. "Data is useful. B-4 is not."

"Are you saying then," The Doctor argued angrily, "That a brain damaged person should have their brain removed in favor of a healthier one from someone whose body is failing?" Seven blinked and considered his opinion.

"They are not people, they are machines," she answered, her human side flinching from the cold, borg decisiveness. She wasn't of only one mind on this, but she believed more that Data should be restored. Partly, she acknowledged, because the Borg Queen had been so interested in him. The Doctor didn't say anything. A hurt spread across his face and he turned away.

"Perhaps you're right," he answered, and then vanished.

"I think you hurt his feelings," Dr. Atkins admonished.

"It was not my intention. Commander Data was a loss that Starfleet was devastated by. B-4 is being given remedial training with no hopes of a future, after his unreliability was proven by the Scimitar incident."

"Unfortunately, more people will share that view, Miss Hansen, than the Doctor's. Commander Data was declared sentient. B-4 has not been. But that doesn't mean that he isn't entitled to whatever life he would lead." Seven was confused, but accepted Dr. Atkins statement without further comment.

"Blue skies  
Smiling at me  
Nothing but blue skies  
Do I see…"

Debate raged on in Starfleet, B-4's main advocate being The EMH known as Doctor. The Doctor was in the minority, but it was a thorn in the side of those who believed that Data should be restored at all costs. He suggested and led a team of scientists hell bent on a holographic solution—it failed. Seven of Nine proposed a Borg solution, but Starfleet wouldn't even hear her out. All her proposals were rejected.

"Don't worry about it," B'Elanna said, wrapping her arms around Seven. Over the last several months, they had become close and far from laughing at the idea of dating each other, they were now in an established relationship. Miral looked up at her parents from her schoolwork. The three-year-old was developmentally six now, and rather precocious.

"Is this about that android, Data? If everyone wants him back so much why don't they just make another android?" Miral had Tom's blue eyes, but soft, brown hair, more like her mother's.

"That's kinda what Seven's proposing, honey," B'Elanna answered. Seven continued sulking.

"I thought she was proposing making a drone body to hold Data's memories." B'Elanna blinked in surprise.

"How did you know?"

"I'm not stupid." Miral wrinkled her forehead at the implied insult. Seven smiled.

"No, Miral, you are far from stupid," Seven agreed.

In the end, the proposals to finding an alternative to B-4 were made moot by the very subject attempting to be preserved. An innocent question, posed by the android "Why doesn't Data use my body? I can be stored in the computer memory of this station." was all the incentive they needed. Station Deep Space 3, Where B-4 had been learning and relearning the same concepts, without absorption, readily agreed and the transfer was made. At first, it appeared that it had been a failure. B-4 Still existed, in the station memory, occasionally making the station computer ask "why?"—a trait that would come in handy in the future. But the android body wasn't wired exactly the same. Geordi LaForge left the Enterprise and along with many of the best scientific minds, over the next several years, worked nonstop to make B-4's old body and head compatible for Data's.

The day that they declared success was Miral's 18th Birthday. At developmental age 10, she slowed into a 'normal' aging pattern. Chronologically, she was about 13, but not in any other way. She was studying the collective works of Noonien Soong and Data's theories on them. Everyone had been following the events of the past ten years very closely. Miral's step-mother, Seven, was working alongside her when the broadcast came. There was Commander Data, thanking his best friend, Geordi, his brother, B-4 and the science and engineering crews that worked on him for dedicating a decade of their lives to him. It was a short broadcast, but one that was felt in the hearts of billions of Federation citizens. A moment after it was over, Professor Torres called her daughter from her part of the Academy campus, where she had interrupted her Advanced Engineering class to share the joy with her family. Also, the news that Data would be coming to the academy to teach.

Seven and B'Elanna eventually settled into retirement on earth, with the Hansen family. Miral fell in love with and married a young Klingon warrior from Starfleet Academy named Worf Rozhenko, son of Alexander. Unlike her famous mothers, Miral didn't stay with Starfleet as an officer and settled down, by the age of 26, into anonymity.

The End.


End file.
